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Being Skint
My bras are all falling to bits,
There’s nothing to hold up my tits!
The underwear’s’ shocking –
All ladders no stocking,
You could say it’s reached the pits!
My music has bitten the dust,
(I’ve had to scrape off the rust)
Fed up with the Stones
I prefer Jesus Jones,
To get up to date is a must.
My oven shouldn’t be here,
It’s reached the end of an era.
All furniture displayed,
Is now threadbare and frayed,
I’d buy all new but it’s dear.
My clothes are all yesteryear,
You might say I need some new gear!
Once a vogue fan,
I now cherish Oxfam,
But I swallow my pride with cheer.
I’m into recycling most stuff,
Tho’ cats’ food and soap is quite
tough.
Tea bags used twice,
(It don’t taste very nice)
The list is endless, it’s rough.
Well now we’ve all had a laugh,
I ought to jump into the bath.
I must change the water –
It’s been there all quarter,
You can’t even sink a raft!
My bags are light for the dustmen,
Cats ago elsewhere to rip open.
I sew all my shoes,
Use old bones for stews,
And value all seconds from friends.
The ‘phone is on incoming calls,
I burn candles outside my hall.
Bills not paid on blue
Guaranteed overdue
It always feels extra cool.
I request after meals doggie bags,
As my cats’ as thin as a fag.
But what they don’t know
Is that when I get home,
I prepare a new feast and go mad!
My slippers are old and well crappy,
I’ve lined them with Gemmas’ old
nappy!
I don’t care about cash
Just give life a bash,
Who care as long as we’re happy!
Linda Lawrence
2nd January 1993